


Phoenix Rising

by therisingharvestmoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therisingharvestmoon/pseuds/therisingharvestmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Dumbledore has a number of tricks left up his sleeve, and regret in his heart. AU HBP-onwards. Animagus!Fawkes. SS/OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoenix Rising

_Prologue_

The wind howled, and the full moon danced behind the black clouds. The street below was briefly hidden in complete darkness before another wave of light washed over - brick and tarmac painted colourless, seeming to make the shadows even darker by contrast. The gust pushed the clouds along, and once again, the small English village was shrouded in darkness. The old-fashioned street lamps were too far away and it was much too late at night for any of the sleeping Muggles to notice the sudden appearance of a very old man in one of the back lanes. The old man was wearing a long set of wizard's robes, buckled boots, a pair of half-moon spectacles and his white-grey hair and beard almost reached his waist. In his right hand he held and wand, while he kept his left firmed tucked by his side. It was blackened and burned, glistening in the moonlight.

Albus Dumbledore, wand in hand, made his way along the cobblestoned alley toward the nearest town house, neatly fenced in between its neighbours. Dumbledore knew that Horace Slughorn would say no. He should have taken Harry with him, he supposed. The mention of Lily Evans' son may not be enough. He stopped. He was at the front gate, staring up at the two-up-two-down town house, identical to the rest in the street. Everything looked perfectly normal. The back of Dumbledore's neck prickled. He gripped the wand more tightly and glanced around over his spectacles. Nothing. No, Death Eaters did not like to wait about.

Dumbledore opened the front door and tiptoed into the hallway. Everything was still in its perfect place; there was even a stack of knitting magazines stacked perfectly on the hall cupboard. He'd been to enough of these scenes to know what to expect, but still his heart was in his throat. The stench hit him as he walked into the dining room.

Horace Slughorn, former head of Slytherin House and Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was dead. Horace lay with his eyes open on his back, his vast stomach giving him the appearance of a beached whale, his moustache more akin to a walrus.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Oh, Horace..."

It was only a matter of time before someone caught up with Slughorn. The retired professor had been flitting from town to town, keeping under the radar, staying in rooms above Muggle pubs and in Muggle homes when the owners had gone on holiday. Perhaps Tom had finally realised the advantage Slughorn could give, not for him, but for the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore bent over the corpse, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell, and gently shut Slughorn's eyelids with his uninjured hand. Gently straightening up, he drew his wand from the pocket of his robes once again, and a gust of flame burst from the tip of his wand as he waved it. Fawkes' cry was distressed as the bird circled the room. She fluttered down, landing on Dumbledore's good shoulder. Another flick of a wand, and a scroll appeared, written and tied. He tied the note to the bird's leg gently. "I know you are not accustomed to being a carrier pigeon, please don't stare at me that way."

Fawkes squawked and nipped at his hand.

"Take this to the Ministry immediately. Make sure it falls into the right hands. Then meet me back at the castle." He sighed again, staring into the birds bright and intelligent eyes. "As you know, we have much to discuss."

Fawkes nipped at him again, before disappearing in a burst of flame.

Dumbledore stood in the room for a moment more, watching the embers from where Fawkes had disappeared fall onto the carpet as delicately as though it were snow. The only sound was tick of the clock in the kitchen, extraordinarily loud in the late and cold night's silence. He plucked a stray phoenix feather from his cloak, twirling it between forefinger and thumb, inspecting its intense colours with a concerned expression upon his wizened face. He closed his eyes. There was enough time with Fawkes off to deliver the news of Slughorn's death to the Ministry. He would have to tell Severus now. At least, tell him some of it.

When next he opened his eyes, the wind was howling through the Forbidden Forest and off the surface of the Great Lake, far chillier than in the little village, and far too chilly for this time of year.

The walk through the gates and up the winding paths to Hogwarts castle left Dumbledore breathless. He was glad to have paused for breath in the Entrance Hall, as he ran into Minerva on the way to his office. She had arrived that morning, and had donned her green tartan dressing gown and slippers in lieu of the students' not being expected until next week. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore!"

"Professor McGonagall." He greeted her with a warm smile.

Her smile fell when she saw his hand.

"Oh Albus for goodness sake! What have you done now?"

His smile never faulted. "Oh, Minerva, will I never learn? They told me the sting of the African luna stinging fish was painful..." He shook his head and looked passed her wistfully, hoping that was vague enough to disconcert and distract her. She opened her mouth and was about to argue. "Ah, Minerva! Yes! I'm glad I've run into you. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do me a slight favour. You'll have to forgive me for the lateness of the hour."

She blinked, wrapping the dressing gown around her more tightly. "I - yes. A favour? Yes, Headmaster. What is it?"

"Please wake Severus for me, Minerva. I'm afraid the matter is one of some urgency.

_Some urgency? Why would he trust Severus Snape with these matters more than she? It seemed that name was cropping up more and more frequently, particularly in times of urgency. And she still didn't like the way he slunk around._ McGonagall blinked, realising she had been staring at her tartan slippers. "Of course, Severus, yes. Right away."

Down the hall, up the stairs, past the stone gargoyle, up some more stairs and through the door, Dumbledore finally sank into the high-backed chair behind his desk with a sigh, his ancient bones aching. What was yet to come hinged on every step falling into place. One of these things was for Horace Slughorn to take back his position as Potion's Master at Hogwarts. To gain his memories. To understand how Tom became the way he was.

He was musing with his eyes half-shut from weariness when there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in!" Dumbledore called tiredly.

Severus Snape opened the door, dressed in his usual black attire, with no sign he had just been asleep other than the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

"Headmaster."

Snape's tone was indifferent, as he was accustomed to being woken at all hours. He was also accustomed to bad news. He shut the door behind him with a gentle snap.

"Severus." Dumbledore gestured toward the seat on the other side of his large desk. "Please, sit."

Snape sat, straight-backed and attentive, waiting for the Headmaster to continue.

"I found out where Horace Slughorn would be this evening. I knew Lord Voldemort would be alerted to his location the moment I was." He sighed. Snape waited, watching him silently with those black eyes. "He's dead, Severus."

Snape barely blinked. "I see."

Dumbledore hoisted himself up on his elbows and learned forward. "The plan will still go ahead, although I feel we may be severely disadvantaged without Horace's memories. There are few others left alive who were present at the time of Tom Riddle's school days, and even fewer in that close circle of students' privy to Tom's fascination with the Dark Arts. He doesn't trust easily, you see."

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. "Indeed. I seem to remember that I have some experience in the matter."

Dumbledore's soft blue eyes glinted. "I'm sorry, Severus. Of course."

"There's no need for apologies... We just need to keep looking." He frowned. "So you have another candidate in mind for the Potion's Master position?"

Dumbledore smiled wistfully, but Snape did not miss the pained expression that flitted across his face in that moment. "Potion's Mistress, in fact. But..."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"The situation is not... Not ideal."

Snape tilted his head back slightly. "Headmaster, I can't imagine dancing around the bush is going to make it any easier. What is the problem?"

Dumbledore frowned. "It is a lot to ask."

"To fill the position of Potion's Ma- Mistress?" Snape smiled wryly. "I'll take the compliment, I suppose. I don't see how it is a lot to ask." He looked at his pale hands, flicking grit from under one of the nails. "I know of a few other instances in which it would be too much of a burden to put on a person. To act as spy for the most notorious Dark wizard of this century? Perhaps. Or to ask someone to kill them, with the whole world never knowing it was a mercy-killing? Do you think that fits the criteria?" Snape looked up to see that Dumbledore was giving him a stern look. "Very well, I shall not mention it again, as you have asked. Do forgive me, Headmaster, but we do not have all night. You called me out of bed to tell me what's going on, so tell me."

Dumbledore sighed again, looking down at his folded hands.

"Very well, I shall tell you, Severus. But keep in mind, I cannot tell you that which is not mine to tell."

Snape inclined his head.

"She is an extremely talented witch. Her Potions are second perhaps only to you, Severus, and a few others. The danger does not lie in her teaching something which she is most comfortable in. The danger is bringing her out in the open." Dumbledore twisted in his seat and stood, staring at the milky frost forming on the stained glass windows. "She is Muggle-born. That in itself is not dire, of course. But she is Muggle-born, and was in our Tom's cohort here at Hogwarts, all of whom are now dead."

Snape leaned back in his chair. "I see your dilemma."

"That's not the half of it, Severus..."

Snape could see tears in the old man's eyes, and had to admit to himself that it was curious. "Oh?"

"If I could just retrieve the memories, it would be enough. There are plenty of teaching staff out there, perfectly capable of filling the position. But I need her to be here with me, and when the time comes... Severus, will you look after her?"

Snape blinked, frowning. "For as long as I can. You know I have promised to take care of the school when you... When you can no longer."

"Yes... And I am thankful for your loyalty Severus, truly."

Snape was still frowning. "Headmaster? I still do not understand."

There was a long pause, with Dumbledore still staring out the window at the blue-black sky, the wind howling, the moonlight bathing the black moors. Finally, he turned. Though the tears in his eyes remained unspilled, his voice was steady.

"I only knew her as a shy but brilliant student at school. Head in the books and the clouds. A gentle thing, really. Going places. Tom Riddle despised her for her cleverness and her blood-status. After school, Tom retained his followers and his taste for torture, and her home address."

Snape averted Dumbledore's eyes. The Headmaster continued.

"Well, we know the effects of overuse of the Cruciatus curse. She had been offered protection at the time, but she never thought he'd actually hurt her - she'd never done anything to him, she thought, so why would he? Her mind wasn't completely broken, and she was brought to me with some hopes I could help." There was another pregnant pause, in which rain had started to patter softly against the glass. Dumbledore's voice was even more soft when he spoke again. "I put up a wall in her mind, between the memories of the torture and her self. Perhaps a more talented wizard may have been able to do a better job, but my thought at the time was that it was better than a life time of insanity and horror."

Snape nodded in agreement.

"What I didn't know, couldn't have known, was the husk of a witch that it would leave." His voice had trailed off.

"Headmaster?" Snape's eyebrows were furrowed, and there was something close to concern in his eyes.

"The colour was quite literally stripped from her. She was so weak, body and soul. And... and I sealed most of her magic in that part of her mind. She could change into her Animagus form to protect herself, and that was it, all but the purely theoretical. But every time that took something from her. But she was stronger when she wasn't herself... so she stayed in the safety of the animal."

Snape nodded. "And therefore out of the Dark Lord's grasp?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, a burst of flames filled the room, and Dumbledore's Phoenix fluttered down to its perch. Dumbledore approached, stroking it's feathers gently.

"Oh good, good."

The bird watched Snape until he felt unsettled and turned to the Headmaster. "You were saying?" He prompted.

He nodded, staring at the phoenix. "Yes. I was saying, that an old fool's mistake left a young woman with an extremely difficult position. She may be the only chance to know how to destroy one of the most Dark wizards of all time, but to great personal risk, possibly even her death."

Snape tilted his head to the side. "I have accepted that my own is inevitable. Perhaps an even desirable outcome when all is done. But this person is... for lack of a better term, innocent. And you would have me protect her?"

"I would."

"She can give us information about the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"Which I will, of course, have to disclose to him."

"Yes."

"And subsequently, all the more protection she will require, because you made a mistake, and she is virtually defenceless, without magic?"

Dumbledore gave him a searching look. "Yes. If not for me, for her."

Snape scoffed. "I see. Of course I have no choice in the matter, but it's far too late to go into that again. For her, for her? To win."

"She will take over your Potions position of course, and ultimately help us defeat Lord Voldemort."

"I wasn't asking for anything in return, you know I don't expect it."

"You deserve it." Dumbledore insisted in a whisper.

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Perhaps a discourse in the morality of good and evil, reward and justice should be had at a more suitable hour, Headmaster?"

"You will do it?" Dumbledore implored.

Snape sighed. "Yes, I will."

"Thank you," Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Thank you, Severus."


End file.
